A troubled minor with a history of attention-seeking disappearance behaviors.
He signed it.
Catherine signed a supporting affidavit.
Their lies helped them avoid scrutiny for abandoning me.
Ruth and Henry paid most of my medical expenses themselves.
I did not discover that until after both had died.
“You will correct the record,” I said.
William stared.
“Publicly?”
“Yes.”
“Our lawyers will never allow—”
“You currently need lawyers for larger problems.”
Courtney jumped up.
“This is blackmail.”
“No.”
“Save us or we confess?”
“I have not offered to save you.”
That silenced her.
I continued.
“I will advise you legally and ethically within my professional role. I will not conceal crimes. I will not destroy evidence. I will not lie to federal investigators.”
William looked horrified.
“Then what are we paying you for?”
“To keep your panic from adding ten new crimes to the existing ones.”
DeAndre laughed once.
The first time I heard him laugh.
Courtney glared.
Then Marcus entered.
He held a satellite phone.
“PK.”
“What?”
“Federal counsel moved.”
My family froze.
“The search warrant?”
“Signed.”
William stood.
“When?”
Marcus looked at his watch.
“Eleven minutes ago.”
Catherine gripped the table.
“They’re going to search our house?”
“Properties. Offices. Foundation headquarters.”
Courtney began breathing rapidly.
“My jewelry.”
I stared.
Of course.
Marcus continued.
“And there’s something else.”
“What?”
“Agents detained your CFO at O’Hare.”
William looked sick.
“Daniel Roth?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He was boarding a flight to Switzerland.”
My father whispered a curse.
Marcus looked toward me.
“He asked for a lawyer.”
“Good.”
“Then he asked for a cooperation agreement.”
William went completely still.
The man who knew where every financial body was buried had decided he did not want to be buried with them.
William lied for forty-seven minutes.
I timed him.
We began at seven the next morning.
Rain hit the windows.
Coffee sat untouched.
My father opened his binder and transformed back into the executive the world knew.
Controlled.
Analytical.
Selective.
He admitted “aggressive accounting.”
Denied intentional misuse of pension assets.
Admitted offshore structures.
Denied tax evasion.
Acknowledged foundation “administrative irregularities.”
Denied personal enrichment.
Then I placed one document in front of him.
A handwritten ledger.
His face changed.
Catherine leaned over.
“What is that?”
William stared at me.
“Where did you get it?”
“Answer her.”
Catherine looked between us.
“William?”
The ledger came from Daniel Roth.
Vale Meridian’s CFO had scanned it before leaving for the airport.
The original remained inside a safe federal agents had now seized.
It tracked something called the Redwood Reserve.
Not a legal entity.
A private accounting system.
Twenty-three years of hidden transfers.
Political payments.
Private settlements.
Unreported executive compensation.
Payments to women.
Payments to lawyers.
Payments connected to me.
Catherine found the first one.
PIKE, GERALD — SYDNEY MATTER — $350,000
My mother’s face drained.
“What?”
Gerald Pike.
The attorney who told fourteen-year-old me my parents feared for my mental condition.
The man who pushed me to sign statements saying I chose voluntary placement away from home.
The man who disappeared from my life once the Kanes accepted foster custody.
Catherine looked at William.
“You paid Gerald three hundred fifty thousand dollars?”
William said nothing.
“Why?”
“He handled a complicated matter.”
“Our daughter?”
I almost smiled at the phrasing.
Our daughter.
Twenty years late.
William rubbed his forehead.
“The press was becoming aggressive.”
“So you paid him?”
“To protect the family.”
“From what?”
“Negligence accusations.”
Catherine stood.
“You told me the insurance company paid him.”
William looked up.
“I handled it.”
Catherine laughed bitterly.
“You always handle things.”
Courtney appeared bored until she found another line.
OREGON COUNTY SETTLEMENT — 90,000
“What was that?”
I knew.
The deputy who initially wrote in his report that William and Catherine waited nearly fourteen hours before formally reporting me missing later amended the timeline.
The official report claimed three.
I had suspected influence.
Now there was a payment.
Not necessarily to the deputy personally.
To a county “youth safety initiative” through an attorney.
Timing suspicious.
Federal investigators would determine meaning.
William became angry.
“That donation was legal.”
“Maybe.”
I did not overstate.
Crisis strategy depended on accuracy.
“You should expect questions.”
Catherine sat.
“You lied to me too.”
William looked at her.
“About which part?”
That was almost funny.
She slapped the ledger closed.
“All of it.”
Courtney rolled her eyes.
“Can we please focus on not going to jail?”
DeAndre looked at her.
“You understand this is connected?”
“To Sydney? That was twenty years ago.”
I stared.
She corrected:
“Parker. Whatever.”
DeAndre’s face hardened.
“Her name is Sydney.”
“My sister is dead.”
“No.”
He gestured toward me.
“She is standing ten feet away.”
Courtney stood.
“You don’t know what she was like.”
“What was she like?”
“Jealous.”
“Of you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Mom loved me more.”
Catherine whispered:
“Courtney.”
